


The Unfortunate Mugger

by RenkonNairu



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Attempted mugging, Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Mara Peace is a dirty freak, Mugging, One F-Bomb, Pre-Canon, Wordcount: 500-1.000, Wordcount: less than 1000, implied sex in an ally but really nothing, stumbling home from the club drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu
Summary: Being a mugger in Maxville is so hard. You never know if the couple you choose as your mark is really a supervillian and a superhero having a date night.
Relationships: Barron Battle/Ms. Peace
Kudos: 15





	The Unfortunate Mugger

The couple was a perfect mark. 

Both distracted. The woman, clearly drunk, hanging off her companion as if he were the only thing keeping her vertical. 

The man did look a little intimidating. Tall. Easily six feet. And muscular. It was hard to gauge with his arms hidden under the leather jacket he wore, but somewhere between practical-athlete-muscular and useless-but-pretty-male-model-muscular. Either way it didn’t matter. He was clearly distracted by the woman hanging off him, so he wouldn’t notice someone coming up behind them. Even if he did, how could he react or fight back with the woman already restraining his arms. 

Honestly, it was like they were begging to be robbed. Really. 

Drawing closer, it became easier to hear a little conversation. 

“…easy. Wait until we get home.” The man was saying, as he tried moving one of her hands away from the button and zipper of his jeans.

“You’re so mean…” Whined the woman. She ran a hand through her redder-than-red hair. Then grabbed him and forced him into a nearby ally.

Again, it was like they were asking to be robbed!

“I need you now!” She announced, flattening herself against a wall and striking a pose that might have been attractive if the setting were different. 

It was difficult to tell what the man’s exact feeling on this was. All that could be seen was his back, not his face. But it was not disgust in his voice when he answered her. More like the long-suffering resignation of a man in a serious and committed relationship with an absolute freak. “But- it’s dirty…”

“Exactly.” She heaved a thick and breathy sigh. “It’s dirty!”

There was no possible way this conversation was going to end, that anyone on else on Earth wanted to hear. 

The barrel of a gun was pressed into the man’s back. “It’s about to get a lot dirtier if you don’t do exactly what I say.” Announced the thief. “Wallet. Now. The lady’s purse too. And any jewelry.”

There was a distinct change in the air. 

There always was the moment the gun came out. 

The odd thing was, usually the change was a shift to fear, sometimes even panic. There was pleading to not be harmed. Tears. Sometimes puddles of urine. Instead, the drunk woman’s eyes narrowed. Not at their mugger, but at her companion. Something like concern, but not the kind of concern that was for his safety. The type of concern for what he might do.

“Barron…” She said cautiously, and there was an unspoken warning in her voice. 

His reaction was also not how one was supposed to behave to having a gun pressed into their back. His shoulders relaxed. He tilted his neck to the side one way, then the other. As if stretching. Getting ready for a fight. 

“Move out of the exit vector, Sparky.” He muttered to her.

With a silent nod, she slid to the side and out from in front of him. 

What was going on with these two!? “Are you stupid or something!? I’ve got a gun!”

He man didn’t move. Hadn’t moved at all, in fact. But there was just something so threatening about him, about the way he stood, the way his shoulders were now set, the way he carried himself, that just seemed to scream of danger. This man was dangerous. This was a bad mark. Run! Run away while you still can! 

“Pull the trigger.” The man dared. “See what happens.”

He said it so casually. Like they were making bets and taking dares over drinks with the fellas. Like they were buddies, and this wasn’t a mugging that was in the process of going inexplicably sideways. “Are you stupid or- !?”

That question was never finished. 

The man’s hand lanced out and grabbed the wrist holding the gun, squeezing hard enough to bruise. In the same moment, he performed a very fluid half-spin that placed them both face-to-face. Eyes meeting dark brown eyes framed by curly hair and wire-framed glasses. Under any other circumstances, he would not have looked intimidating in the least. But in one fluid motion, the guy had not only thrown his would-be mugger off guard, but also deflected the weapon. 

“Barron-“ The woman wared again. “Don’t hurt them.”

“I haven’t hurt them yet.” He pointed out to her. 

She did not seem all that moved by his statement. She swayed on her feet slightly, still drunk to spite the seriousness in her tone. She placed one arm on the wall she was just trying to seduce him against to steady herself, planted her feet more evenly for better balance, then raised her other arm. A ball of fire formed in the palm of her hand. 

She was a super. Holy fuck! She was a super! Did that mean that her man was also…?

“I don’t want to have to get into this with you again.” She growled. 

He heaved a sigh. A sigh. As if this were some mundane argument like who should do the dishes that night. “Fine!”

He wrenched the gun out of the hand holding it –almost taking the finger on the trigger with it. 

“The missus takes issue with me killing.” He informed the mugger. 

Holy hell! They were supervillains! 

Then the man picked them up by their own jacket and threw –literally threw- them out of the ally back onto the sidewalk. The worst they got were a couple of scrapes, a bruised wrist, and one dislocated finger. 

That was one of the problems trying to make it as a criminal in Maxville. There were too many damn supers walking around! One never knew if the mark they stalked coming out of the club could light you on fire or throw you around like a softball. 

It was unfortunate to be a mugger in a city where crime –literally- did not pay. 

...

END


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